


no mistakes only happy little accidents

by hoorayy



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, i swear the major character death tag is actually not as bad as it seems here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28374297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoorayy/pseuds/hoorayy
Summary: We see the goddess Istus, seated amidst skeins of celestial thread waiting to be added to the fabric of reality itself. She is knitting, an expression of extreme concentration on her face. Her fingers are quick, dexterous, and skilled; they move her needles in fluid, practiced movements as the thread weaves into ever-expanding fabric.She knits, and as she does, a battle rages below.—Kravitz takes a hit. Things go a little wrong.
Relationships: Kravitz/Taako (The Adventure Zone)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	no mistakes only happy little accidents

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this like two years ago when i first listened to balance and decided “hey, what if i angsted kravitz?” and then wrote this whole thing in one go.   
> (thank you to alyx for helping me with the title, and dylan, i’m sorry i didn’t use the taylor swift lyric you suggested. next time.)

Gods are, at their very nature, infallible; not so much because they cannot make mistakes, but because they possess abilities that make mistakes  _ unnecessary. _ If they can see all of time and the outcome of every choice, how then could they make a wrong decision? If they have infinite knowledge and resources, how then could they give a wrong answer? With relentless strength, endurance, physical prowess – how could they make a single misstep?

The answer, simply, is that they cannot – they can only allow mistakes to happen. It is passive; it is seeing events unfolding, events which fail to line up with natural order or a greater plan, and refraining from interference. It is a conscious awareness of something going wrong, and doing nothing to change it.

We see the goddess Istus, seated amidst skeins of celestial thread waiting to be added to the fabric of reality itself. She is knitting, an expression of extreme concentration on her face. Her fingers are quick, dexterous, and skilled; they move her needles in fluid, practiced movements as the thread weaves into ever-expanding fabric.

She knits, and as she does, a battle rages below.

The scene changes, and now we see the battle. Its heroes fight with a skill and confidence reminiscent of Istus’s knitting – the same fluidity, the same practiced motions playing out with hardly a second thought spared to them. They are a group of warriors who have fought side by side so often, who have traveled and worked and celebrated and mourned together, until they know each other as well as they know themselves.

A tall, broad-shouldered man sweeps through the battle, changing weapons every few seconds – a lance, an axe, a great flaming sword – and enemies fall one after the other in front of him.

A dwarf raises a book over his head and, shouting in a loud voice that combines with a crackling of energy above him, a cut on one of his companion’s arms is healed.

An elven wizard lifts his wand, calling out a one-liner as three bursts of light streak away from him and bury into the chests of his enemies. They fall as he laughs and straightens his hat.

Istus knits, and her heroes fight. They are joined by a skeletal figure wreathed in a dark cloak, swinging a scythe that sends the souls fallen in this battle to another plane, where they will face justice for the crimes they leave behind. The reaper is not one of Istus’s warriors, but he is woven into her fabric as much as they are. His thread is there, looping around her needles beside the threads of every other creature in this battle, and in this world.

Istus knows the pattern she is knitting. She knows the colors of joy and love and family, trust and hope even mixed in with the threads of hardship they have faced. And it pains her to know the dark thread that has been drawing slowly closer, until now, when she wraps it around her needle, ready to add it to the pattern.

In the battle below, someone’s guard slips. Someone else notices.

The knitting goes on. Istus does not stop, despite what she knows is written into these threads, despite the pain it causes her; she has seen hardship so often, and it is part of reality, part of the laws of natural order that she must uphold.

It is Magnus who stumbles, and Taako who catches sight of it in the corner of his vision. The wizard does not hesitate, immediately shooting out a fiery blast towards the enemies who swarm towards his fallen friends. They are driven back by the onslaught of flames, and Magnus gets to his feet again.

Magnus readies his weapon again. He takes only a moment before throwing himself back into the fray, and in that moment, another enemy takes his shot.

Istus knits another stitch.

A crossbow is aimed and fired in quick succession. There is no way it could miss. Taako turns, and he sees it, and he knows too that it will hit its mark.

He watches it as time slows down. He doesn’t have time to move, or cast a spell, or do anything to react except to think,  _ “I guess this one’s gonna stick.” _

__

As she knits that dark thread into her fabric, Istus sees something else happen. She sees where too many threads had bunched up on her needles, and she knows she could spread them out and avoid a mistake. She sees her needle dipping lower than it should, and she knows she could lift her wrist to stop it before something slips. She sees the stitch at the edge, and she knows—she knows she should catch it. She knows she should stop this mistake before it is made.

The stitch slips from her needle.

Taako watches as the crossbow bolt vanishes in front of him. He stares for what feels like an eternity, and then the sounds of battle come rushing back. He hears Magnus shouting, the clang of metal on metal, Merle chanting something – and the bolt is simply gone, inches from burying itself in his chest.

Istus knits the next stitch.

And then, Taako hears a sharp gasp and someone says, confused and strangled, “Taako?”

Dread pools in his gut, but he forces himself to look anyway. Kravitz’s scythe has fallen, and he’s no longer in his skeletal form. His face, handsome and dark, is drawn in pain and shock.

Buried in his abdomen, there is a crossbow bolt, and dark red spreads outwards from it.

“Fuck!” Taako calls a curse to the wind and he runs, catching Kravitz as he begins to sway. “Shit, um, how the fuck—”

“Taako,” Kravitz says again, staring first at his face, and then down at the bolt. “Taako, I don’t have blood?”

A strangled, horrified laugh escapes from Taako’s lips. “Well, I got news for you, babe. Looks like you do, although you’re losing it at an alarming rate.”

“I know, but I…” He looks utterly confused, and Taako is in the same position, honestly. Then Kravitz’s knees buckle, and Taako is left struggling to support his full weight and keep him from crashing to the ground.

They both end up on the ground, Taako half-sitting, half kneeling with Kravitz’s upper torso draped over his lap. There’s blood on both of them now, and it’s spilling onto the grass too, tiny rivulets of crimson trickling away from Kravitz…

Taako’s stomach turns. He’s seen injuries far more grotesque than this, but—but this is  _ Kravitz. _ This is  _ Kravitz’s blood,  _ and Taako is sitting in it.

“This shouldn’t—be happening,” Kravitz says, his voice broken up with quick gasps. “I can’t die, Taako, I’m not—I’m not really alive, I don’t have real blood…”

“It’s gonna be okay, Bones,” Taako says, and he tries to sound like he believes it. There’s so much blood… “You’re gonna be okay, okay? Just hang in there…”

He shouts for Merle, and as he does, Kravitz reaches for his hand. His eyes are wide and his breath is short, and Taako wraps his fingers around Kravitz’s trembling ones.

He’s never seen Kravitz look so afraid. A lump sticks in his throat, and now it’s hard for Taako to breathe properly too.

Merle joins them, although Taako pays attention to him. The sounds of battle have faded to vague background noise; all he’s really aware of is his boyfriend’s breathing and the streaks of crimson on the grass around them.

“What happened?” Merle asks, grabbing his bible as he drops to the ground on Kravitz’s other side.

“I don’t know,” Taako says, his words running together as he hurries through them. “The bolt was coming for me, and then it just disappeared and now—he’s—Merle, for once in your life, do something useful and heal him.”

Merle pouts as he opens his bible, flipping somewhat frantically through the pages. “I healed Magnus earlier—”

_ “Heal him!” _ Taako shouts. Merle starts, but Kravitz doesn’t react at all. His eyes are no longer wide and panicked; now, they’re half-closed and distant. His fingers in Taako’s grasp are limp and still.

“Krav,” Taako says, softer now. “Kravitz, come on. Stay with me.”

His eyes flutter open for a moment, and then he squeezes Taako’s hand weakly.

Merle puts his hand on Kravitz shoulder and he starts whispering a prayer. The blood on Kravitz’s robes, on the grass around them, doesn’t stop.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Taako tells him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Kravitz’s eyes are starting to close again, but he whispers, “Taako.”

“I’m here,” Taako says. His throat hurts. “I’m not going  _ anywhere _ .”

Kravitz smiles a ghost of a smile, and then he coughs, and his lips are flecked with more crimson.

“Merle,” Taako says, his voice coming out panicked. “Merle, hurry it up.”

Merle doesn’t respond; he keeps his eyes shut and keeps whispering with his hand on Kravitz’s shoulder.

“Taako,” Kravitz says again, this time so softly that Taako has to lean down to hear him. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know that,” Taako says, but there’s a hitch in his throat as he says it. “That’s what I keep telling you. You’re just repeating me now.”

Kravitz doesn’t answer that. His eyes are closed, but his hand twitches in Taako’s grasp.

Taako turns his attention to Merle. “Can’t you speed this up a bit?”

Merle stops praying, and now he looks as confused as the both of them. “It isn’t working.”

“Pan’s gone again?” Taako says, incredulous.

“No, no,” Merle says. “It’s—he’s there, it’s just… The spell is working, but it’s not having any effect on Kravitz. It’s like there’s some force keeping him from healing.”

“So stop it!”

“I can’t! I don’t know—”

“Taako.” Kravitz draws his attention again, tapping his fingers on Taako’s hand until Taako leans down to hear him.

“What’s up?” Taako asks, trying to not sound terrified.

Kravitz coughs again, and then he whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Taako says, and it’s natural, it’s casual, it’s what they say every day—but then Kravitz’s hand goes still, and Taako panics. “Wait, no, no fuck off, you’re not allowed to be that dramatic, you don’t get to—you don’t get to leave me, Kravitz—Kravitz, wake up, come on, stay with me…”

“Taako,” Merle says, quietly.

“No,” Taako says, but Kravitz doesn’t move, and his chest isn’t moving, and there’s blood everywhere—“No, no, no, no…”

The scene changes.

There is darkness all around, and then, suddenly a burst of light. Istus sits in the center of it, and she is knitting.

Kravitz finds himself at her feet. Shakily, he rises, keeping his head bowed.

“My lady,” he says, quietly.

“Hello, Kravitz. I hope you are all right.”

“I—” He stops. He’d just died—he thinks? It’s been centuries since the first time he’s done that. He forgot how much it hurts. “I think I’m all right.”

“I am very glad to hear that. And, Kravitz, I am so sorry for what you’ve just had to go through.”

Kravitz still feels dazed. He looks up at the goddess. “How—I’m sorry, I—may I—”

“Speak your mind, my child,” Istus says gently.

“How did that happen?” Kravitz asks. He touches a hand to his face, runs it down his chin. “How… How can it even be possible for me to… to die?”

The goddess makes a soft humming sound. “It shouldn’t have been. Your human form is merely a construct, easily changeable and impossible to truly kill.”

“Right,” Kravitz says. “So then… how?”

Istus is silent for a moment, turning over the knitting in her lap. “I could give you a long answer, about fate and time and divine intervention—but somehow, I believe you’re a bit impatient for that.”

Kravitz hesitates as Istus studies him, and he realizes that she’s right. “I have to get back to Taako.”

She nods. “The bolt on the battlefield was aimed for him. There was no way it could miss, and it would have been a fatal shot. It was nearly woven into fate, and then nothing could have changed it.”

“You…”

She holds out her knitting, showing a small patch of it to Kravitz. Even to his unskilled, untrained eye, he can see the mistake. Two stitches, in the wrong places.

“Taako’s time in your plane is not over yet,” she says while he stares down at the threads. “I think you’ll agree with me.”

Kravitz looks up to meet her eyes. “You swapped us.”

She smiles sadly. “I wish it had not hurt you. It was… a mistake.”

“No,” Kravitz says. “No, I—thank you.  _ Thank you. _ ”

“There is no thanks needed,” Istus says.

“Thank you still,” Kravitz says. He doesn’t know what else to say, but he knows, if given the choice, he would have chosen this too. He would choose this, dying in Taako’s place—he would choose it every time, because Taako still has people in this plane who need him, and he needs them.

“I believe your employer will be wanting to see you,” Istus says. As she does, a scythe forms in Kravitz’s hand. A few raven feathers drift to the ground. “And after that, a certain world-famous chef will be wanting to see you too.”

Kravitz nods, and he smiles. “I should be going, then.”

Istus gestures a hand towards his scythe, and then returns to her knitting. He slashes a portal into the air in front of him, bows, and then he steps through it.

The battle is over by the time he gets back. Some of the brigands have escaped; he’ll have to track them down later and make sure they end up in the astral plane, where they belong. But for right now, he has other priorities.

Taako is leaning heavily against Magnus, and although he can’t see his face, he can see the way Taako trembles against his chest. Merle stands nearby, and all three look like someone has drained the energy from them. And, not just the energy; the heart, the life itself.

They look far too sad, and Kravitz feels a pang of guilt wash over him. He makes his way across the battlefield, and once he’s close enough, he shouts Taako’s name.

Merle actually sees him first, and when he does, he reaches out to grab Taako’s hand. Magnus looks over, and then, finally, Taako turns around.

He doesn’t call Kravitz’s name; he doesn’t say anything at all. He just breaks into a sprint, dodging bodies and weapons as he goes, and he throws himself at Kravitz.

He nearly falls backwards, a tangle of limbs and Taako’s swearing, as he seems to have found his voice upon realizing that Kravitz is here and solid. They stay upright though, Taako’s embrace nearly crushing and Kravitz all but returning it.

“What the fuck?” Taako says, finally leaning back a little bit. “You just… You scared the  _ everything _ out of me. Not cool, my dude.”

“Sorry,” Kravitz apologizes. “I definitely didn’t mean to.”

Taako pauses, just staring at his face for a long time, like he’s taking it all in. Kravitz is doing the same, honestly. It’s only been fifteen minutes at the most since they’ve last seen each other, but it feels much, much longer. He guesses literally dying will do that you.

And then Taako kisses him, and he rather forgets about time passing at all.

“What just happened?” Magnus’s voice brings him back to reality, and reluctantly, their kiss is broken. Kravitz thinks about what Istus had said. He wonders how Taako will feel, knowing what she did, and he decides to keep a bit of it to himself.

“Something got messed up in the god-world,” Kravitz says. “It’s sorted now, though. I won’t be dying anymore.”

“Thank Pan,” Merle says. “You scared us pretty badly.”

“Sorry,” Kravitz apologizes again.

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Magnus says.

Kravitz smiles.

It’s not until later that night that Taako rolls over to look intently at Kravitz. “I’ve just had a thought.”

“What?” Kravitz asks.

“You died,” Taako says. “A second time.”

“Right,” Kravitz says, not sure what Taako is getting at.

Taako nods, and he says deadpan, “Are you gonna have to arrest yourself now?”

Amidst Taako’s loud, squawking laugher, Kravitz groans.


End file.
